Category Archives: Bumpboobs

Strike of the mouth sores

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

A leisurely trip through the country side. Nothing except the birds, bees, and the sound of two voices travelling inside a small 2003 Peugeot. Let’s listen in as the couple approaches a roundabout:


“Which exit do I take?”

“Third.”

“This one?”

“No – one.”

“This one?”

“No – two.  Here, this next one.”

“This one?”

“Yes – three.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

“Here?”

“Here!”

And so on, roundabout after roundabout. Our GPS confused us so badly today we got lost in our own city centre, got lost on the highway detour, and got lost in the countryside. We got lost so many times, even the road map turned against us. And all the while Zsolt’s family followed us in the car behind. They must have thought we were nuts.

But it was a very pretty drive. The New Forest is a lovely place. Today was a typically English day with the sweeping light rain and greyness all around, which might be depressing if you are stuck at home with a foggy window, but it’s striking as you drive along Hardy-esque landscapes.

The tricky bit today was that I ate a giant scone mid afternoon, and it gave me mouth sores. I’m sure it was the scone – we were sitting round the cafe table, spreading the jams and cream, and about half way through my scone it became less and less comfortable to eat. Forward thirty minutes and my mouth was full of sores. Blah, why does something so sweet have to be so bad? Can’t sugar and cream and white flour be healthy for the body?

Anyhow, my mom is helping me cope with the sores. It’s gotten a bit tricky to talk, but I am hoping the right supplements, some sleep and an occasional dose of warm salt water will make the difference.

And speaking of sleep . . . I’m outta here.

Update: I wrote this blog last night but didn’t publish it then. Today the sores are getting better but still present. However, I can talk and eat which is a great improvement. Still need to keep rinsing, supplementing, and all that jazz. What a freaking pain! Mind you, despite the sores, it was so good to get out of the apartment. Thank goodness for that.

Bald as an eagle

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

The head is shaved. Chemotherapy made the hair fall, so I made it all go away.

Yesterday afternoon, once Zsolt returned from the office, we sat down in our living room and Zsolt set up his barber shop. Normally I’m the one with the clippers in hand, but he did really well. First we shaved the long hair – so for about five minutes Zsolt and I had similar haircuts (I think I missed a photo opportunity here). Next the guard was removed and he cut it away, except for about 1 mm length because we’d need to take a razor to the remnants.

So forget the hair; now I’m all about cheekbones.

Besides, it really had to go. The sadness of pulling out twenty strands at a time was too much. In this situation, I could take control. I felt relief to shave my head, no joking. An abrupt change too, but good nevertheless.

Now here is the debate: should I go full on bald, or wear scarves all the time? Be it resolved that Catherine is lazy. But is it more effort to shave weekly, or to wrap a scarf each morning? Also, do I want people to see my head naked?

Well at least around Zsolt it doesn’t matter. He’s the one who cut it all off!

Today we and the Sámson family are taking off for the New Forest. We don’t know where we’re going, but we’re shooting for a teahouse. Scones, clotted cream and jam with wandering ponies and stretches of purple heather. It should be a nice drive, regardless of where we end up. Plus, this will be our first chance to pump up the car radio and enjoy that highway breeze.

chemotherapy hair loss

Posted in Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Treatment by

Several months ago I walked into a Southampton hair salon and had my highlights done. And no, I had not done any research beforehand, and had not asked anyone to recommend a good colourist. So, as can be expected – as I should  have expected – it was a hair disaster. She took what was a lovely blond with too dark roots, and turn my hair into an ashy, trashy mess. The bleach white darkened my natural brown; I became a skunk.


Freaking out, I made for Boots and picked up two boxes of hair dye. Three hours later I was strawberry blond. Two weeks later that colour was washing out. Now, I was an ugly orange/blond/brown mixture. So again to Boots! This time I selected an even darker brown. Back home, back to leaning over the tub with the hose in my hand – give it twenty minutes to set – BAM, brunette again, finally. (It was my goal to get back to my original colour, or as much as possible, because blond was now out of the question). Two weeks later, that washed out. But I gave up, chopped off some hair, and decided to grow it out with time.

Except here is the thing, back then I had this thought, a terrible thought: “If I had cancer, I’d shave it all off.”

Sigh . . .

Zsolt says I need to stop fixating on my hair. He says it doesn’t look thin, and I have too early accepted the idea of a shave. Maybe he is right.

But yesterday I washed my hair, thinking ‘okay you little buggers, I’m gonna wash you – and anyone who doesn’t want to stick around can make their exit now.’ And then I blow dried my hair (from about 2.5 feet away) and I thought: ‘Right, you stupid strands. Last chance to get out!’ And FINALLY, I ran my fingers through my head and pulled out a nest of hair. It was about then I developed an understanding.

The hair isn’t stopping. It’s slowly shedding, and slowly thinning. It will be on my pillow, and in my food, and across my shoulders so long as there is hair to lose.

I regret that stupid cancer thought. It underestimated the change; the physical expression.  Of course it will grow back, that’s not really the problem. The problem is – if I shave my head, I can’t pretend to be fine.

Well anyhow. The day won’t get better if I keep on sulking. Zsolt has a booklet from the Macmillian Centre called ‘Coping with hair loss’. I guess it’s time for some reading.